


Pain is Relative

by complaining_is_cathartic



Series: Works that I say might become multi-chapter, but probably won't [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst galore, Bullying, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I have to keep looking up characters in Steve's childhood, If I continue this it's gonna have a lot more characters, Incomplete, JARVIS - Freeform, Make no mistake, Maria Stark - Freeform, Neglect, One-Shot, Rhodey - Freeform, Sarah Roger's Actual A+ Parenting, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Sunset Bain - Freeform, Tiberius - Freeform, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, but the fic is not, for now, haha wHoops, like Bucky, that's kinda why this fic is incomplete, the summary may seem cheerful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complaining_is_cathartic/pseuds/complaining_is_cathartic
Summary: It’s not a secret that Tony and Steve don’t get along. Their personalities, their backgrounds, and even their looks are complete opposites. And, you know, that's fine and all, but the fighting is really getting old. So it's not surprising that even supervillains get tired of their bickering. What is surprising, on the other hand, is when one of the supervillains make them re-live each other's childhoods.As Tony and Steve immerse themselves in the other's past, they (literally) can't help but empathize with each other.





	Pain is Relative

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a bit confusing to some people, so if you have any questions, then just ask! 
> 
> ALSO, let’s not argue over who had it worse, okay? Steve and Tony BOTH grew up in VERY different shitty situations (though there are similarities in their differences...if that makes sense). 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Last thing, like 88% of my knowledge of Tony and Steve’s childhood comes from fanfiction, so I’m sorry if I mess things up. The other 12% is like one-part imagination and two-parts research.)

His mind is whirling around and around and  _around_. Blurry images and muddled feelings whip about his head, and Steve can’t get it to  _stop_. He’s screaming and thrashing his stubby limbs in a crib, trying to get someone― _anyone’s_ ―attention, but no one is coming. (In some hidden part of his mind, he thinks that no one will ever come―not the ones that are supposed to, anyway.)

Steve is vaguely aware that this, whatever he is experiencing, isn’t  _him_. These aren’t  _his_ memories. And yet, he can still  _feel_ them.

Steve continues to cry out. He wants his mother, needs her warm, soft touch. Where is his mother?

After what seems like hours, though it could’ve been minutes or maybe even days (Steve just can’t keep track), warm hands encase him in a soft blanket.

“Shh,” a woman, some sort of nanny, Steve realizes, soothes. “It’s okay, Anthony.”  

_Wait, Anthony?_ Steve forces his brain to cooperate, trying to make sense of the situation. _Oh_. Vaguely, he recalls the sorcerer. The mumbo-jumbo about listening to each other. _Ha_. As if Steve needs to know anything more about Tony “Everything is About Me” Stark.

“I am here now,” the woman continues.

The memories of the sorcerer fade into the back of Steve’s mind as his attention turns toward the present. He settles into the role of Tony Stark, quieting down to watch the scenes unfold.

Gentle hands rock him back and forth. His head rests over the nanny’s chest, and Steve can hear her heartbeat. It’s not his mother’s heartbeat, and the warm hands aren’t quite what he wants either, but it’s something. And at this point, Steve will take any attention over the empty crib.

 

* * *

 

When Tony opens his eyes, all he can feel is  _warmth_. His head is held softly against a sturdy chest, a heartbeat thudding next to his ears. It’s...his mother, except it  _isn’t_ at the same time.

Tony doesn’t understand what is going on. Somehow, he knows that these are memories, but they definitely aren’t  _his_.

The woman, his mother, coos at him, taking note of his opened eyes.

“Hey, baby. My Stevie…”

_Ah_. Tony remembers now. The clash with Steve “Stick Up My Ass” Rogers. The sorcerer. Getting knocked out. He mentally snorts. _So this is Steve’s childhood, must be nice._

His mother sways and hums, her warm arms hold him securely. Tony’s never felt safer in his life.

Vaguely, he feels the rough texture of his blanket irritate his skin, and the house is drafty and dirty. The absence of a father is rather questionable, but Tony doesn’t care. He has his mother and that’s all he needs.

 

* * *

 

Steve, or rather _Tony_ , is a curious child. As soon as he learns to walk, he explores all over the mansion, running (trying to run) away from his nanny’s stern watch.

His mind still  _whirls_ and  _buzzes_ , only stopping when he reads or takes things apart. (And he does both  _a lot_.) Steve feels Tony’s need to  _know_. He wants to learn  _everything_ , and his house is the perfect place to do so.  

The mansion is big and sturdy. Steve always has what he needs: the best clothes, the best food, the best items (but not toys because daddy says that only children play with toys, and Tony is a _man_ ).

_If this is how Tony grew up, then it’s no wonder he’s so spoiled._ Steve thinks, warm and sated in his soft pajamas, his stomach full.

He reasons away mommy and daddy’s absence. They’re wealthy and busy; it’s understandable that they don’t have time for him. His nan and Jarvis will take care of him anyway.

As long as he has his food and his clothes and his million-dollar possessions, he’ll be happy.

 

* * *

 

Tony tries to stay quiet all the time. He doesn’t want to disturb his neighbors (and trust me, there are  _a lot_ ).

His clothes itch and his house smells and there are so many people here. The apartment is dark and cold, and Tony hates all of it. Going to the bathroom is the  _worst_ because it’s all stinky and hot and gross. He has to share the bathroom with other people too, which makes it even worse.

He cried about it once, but then his mommy got sad, so he tries not to cry about anything anymore. He stays the picture perfect son for mommy so that she doesn’t worry about him...except he  _isn’t_ the picture perfect son.

He’s sick and weak and always too skinny. He scarfs down whatever mommy cooks, but it doesn’t do anything. He hates his body, wishes that he could be big and strong for mommy (his  _warm_ , beautiful, caring mommy). But he just  _can’t_. Father can’t either because he’s  _gone_. Tony (well, _Steve_ ) hopes that one day he’ll be able to take care of his mommy instead of the other way around.

 

* * *

 

His hands are tender and burnt, but he’s never been happier in his life.

Steve (Tony) holds a circuit board in his tiny hands, pride swelling in his chest. He’s 4 years old and reading books more advanced than some middle schoolers, maybe even high schoolers, and this creation he’s cradling is proof.

_Tony may be an asshole, but he is a true genius_ , Steve thinks fondly. _I bet Howard would be proud._

Evidently, Tony thinks the same thing. He runs towards his father’s study, yelling out, “Daddy!”

Opening the larger wooden door, he stumbles over to his father’s desk, hiding the circuit board.

Howard looks at him with cold eyes. ( _Colder than one should ever regard their child_ , Steve thinks.)

“What?” The older genius asks, not in the mood for his child’s nonsense. (He’s never in the mood for his child’s _anything_.)

Tony shyly presents Howard with his creation, and Steve feels anxiety, yearning for acceptance. He hopes that once father sees how smart he is, father will spend more time with him.

_Look at it Howard_ , Steve implores. _Look at what_ ~~_I_~~ _your son made._

Howard spares the crude item a backwards glance.

“I could do better.”

Tony _s h a t t e r s_.

 

* * *

 

Tony (Steve) begins school, and he loves it.

Anything is better than staying in that crowded apartment.

He sits through lessons and listens to the teacher with rapt attention, eyes wide as if trying to absorb everything he sees. And, eventually, he learns how to read. His tiny universe  _explodes_.

Fantasy books, ~~Tony~~ Steve concludes, are  _amazing._ The shoddy hand life dealt him melts away as he immerses himself in worlds unknown. For once, he can be anything but himself. At night, he dreams of becoming a hero.

One day, he sees one of his classmates getting picked on.

_This is the start of your legacy_ , Tony thinks, admiration swelling up.

Tony (Steve?) knows this is his chance to become a hero.

“Stop it you…” He stumbles over his tongue. “You big―big _bully_!” He thinks he remembers reading that word somewhere. (He hopes he used it correctly.)

The bigger boys shove him and mock him. He falls down more than he can count, but he never stays down.

“Quit it!” The bullies whine, unaware of the damage they’re causing. “You’re no fun!”

He stands up, ignoring the way his body sways. “I could…could do this all day,” he stutters out, proud of his response.

At the end of the fight, he lies on his back, gasping in breaths. The kid he was trying to protect ran away. The bullies got bored with him. Time ticks on and the earth continues to spin.

He sucks in cold air and thinks, _I did something_.

Steve  _smiles_.

And then he gets up.   

**Author's Note:**

> If you read the tags, then you know this is incomplete. I started it a while ago, and just let it drag on until I moved onto another idea. The question is whether or not I will finish it. Honestly, idk. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
